Chapter 6

William Shakespear was on a London street. "I have long been interested in the notion of time travel. In fact, I started writing a play about it… It chronicled the tale of a man from our era who fouled the third century by introducing newfangled gadgets and weapons… all in the name of progress. The idea of time travellers isn't so far fetched as it seems… in fact, I have learned that, even now, people from the future are right here in London… and I have no doubt that they are intent on fouling our world… just like the character in my play. Well. Let me serve notice: as soon as I get the necessary evidence, I intend to expose them… and make it absolutely clear that they are not welcome here."

Shakespeare has been giving an on-the-street interview to a young reporter who is taking notes on a scroll. The young man smiled politely. "Yes, sir. And will this be part of your play, Mister Shakespeare?"

Shakespeare glared at him, then spotted something across the street. "Excuse me." He hurried away, falling in behind the Doctor, following him down the street – still seeking 'necessary evidence.'

A tall, aristocratic couple were moving in the opposite direction… she carried a satchel, he carried a cane with a strange carved head. They took no notice of the Doctor. They moved through the people on the street in a silent, ominous search.

In the morgue, only the vague shapes of drap-covered bodies were visible. A hand-held lantern cast a light. Carolyn was using a scanner on the bodies.

"The coroner said this room contained all the cholera victims," said Nita.

"It doesn't make sense that so many people are dying of cholera – it just isn't that virulent." Suddenly Carolyn stopped at one body. "Nita, this is strange…"

"What is it?"

"The cerebral cortex… the cerebellum… the brain stem… the entire nervous system – has been drained of electrochemical energy." She moved to another body. "Here's another one… same neural depletion. These people didn't die of cholera – they died because their neural energy was drained somehow."

"Drained… and taken to Griffoth… for those aliens to ingest."

Carolyn gave her a look… this was an appalling scenario.

Nita looked around the gloomy room, the rows of shrouded bodies. "If you were a time-traveller with a taste for human neural energy… how would you get your supply?"

Carolyn eyed her, understanding what she was getting at. "I'd travel back to times when there were plagues and epidemics… when I could murder – and use disease as a cover."

Nita and Carolyn were now in a rented room of a boarding house, with Michelle. All were dressed in 16th century garb.

"Over half the victims who'd been drained of neural energy came from a place called Sisters of Hope Infirmary."

"It's a charity hospital near the river."

"If the aliens have been killing people there, someone might have noticed something unusual."

"If they're moving among humans, they must have taken human form. The question is, how do we know who we're looking for?"

"The scanner picked up evidence of triolic activity in most of the bodies we looked at. If the aliens are leaving that signature behind, they'll be detectable."

Carolyn thought for a moment. "We might even be able to set up some kind of alien alarm system."

They moved to collect their things (purses, jackets, etc.); Nita went to Michelle. "Any luck contacting the Doctor?"

"None. The scanner is broadcasting random emissions, but the range is pretty limited. Almost anything could interfere."

Nita nodded, and they started toward the door, when suddenly there was a loud insistent knocking on the door. The trio exchanged dismayed glances.

"She's back."

"Mrs Llewcots!"

The others regarded Nita, who looked at the door. "Coming, Mrs Kosh." She opened the door to find Mrs Kosh standing there.

She was a short, squat, formidable-looking woman, Irish and insistent. She spoke with a thick brogue. "Mrs Llewcots, I'd be remindin' you that it's one o'clock."

"Yes?"

"One o'clock of a Thursday."

Nita smiled aimiably at her, not sure what she was getting at.

"I'm sure I made it clear to you that the rent is always due, payable in full, by one o'clock on Wednesdays."

"Ah. The… rent." She turned toward the others; they were at a loss. This was such a foreign concept to them. Nita turned back. "Mrs Kosh, my trio is even now in rehearsals for a new production."

"Oh? I haven't heard of any new production. What play is it?"

"It's – 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.'"

She started to speak but Nita cut her off. "We've performed in Paris and Milan… to sold out houses. I assure you, we'll be able to pay the rent… with a bonus."

Mrs Kosh shook her head. "No, no, no… I've heard you silver-tongued devils before…" She advanced on Nita, eyes blazing with determination. "I'll have the rent in full… tomorrow… by one o'clock – or you'll be performing on the street." She whirled and marched to the door, slamming it. The others shared reactions. They'd bought a little time – but how would they come up with the rent?

The Doctor's inn room door opened admitting Shakespeare and Thomas the porter. "I would not do this for just anybody, Mister Shakespeare. And I hope you will not spread it around that I let you in…"

"Of course not, Thomas. And I assure you – the Doctor would be most upset if you did not. If I do not find that Letter of Intent he left for me… our major investor is going to pull out and take his business elsewhere."

"It has to do with the Doctor's telescope, does it not?"

"Telescope…"

Thomas gestured to the contraption which the Doctor had constructed, now working. Shakespeare, intrigued, walked toward it. "Yes… yes… this is exactly what it is all about…" He circled around the device.

Thomas launched into another subject. "Mister Shakespeare… I am going to do you another favour today…"

Shakespeare was still looking at the device. "Mmmmm…"

"You are always looking for good stories, right? Well, I have a humdinger."

"Uh-huh…"

"The story of – my life. Now, I know you might think I am young… but I have covered a lot of ground, and if I do say so, it would make for a pretty fascinating play. So. What do you think?"

Shakespeare looked up. "About what?"

"About writing a play about my life. You and me – literary partners."

Shakespeare took his arm, moved him toward the door, feigning interest in order to get him out of there. "You know, son, there is a maxim I have always lived by: no one is more qualified to write your story than you are."

"Me? Be a writer? You think I could?"

"Long as you write what you know… you have any passions, son? Any dreams?"

"I would like to do some travelling…maybe go to see… and Russia. I have always had a notion to see Russia."

"That is a great idea. If I were your age, that is exactly what I would do… Russia – the Kama… the Aurora Borealis… that is it, follow your dreams. And write about them." He opened the door, gesturing the young man out.

"Thank you! Thank you, Mister Shakespeare. That is just what I am going to do!"

Shakespeare was trying to get him out. "You do that, son."

"You will be seeing my name in print." He gestured. "More… the name's More."

"I am sure I will. Good-bye now."

And he finally got the kid out. Shakespeare returned immediately to the device, and now began to examine it in earnest. Finally he leaned toward it and removed the transceiver assembly. The machine stopped functioning. He slipped it in his pocket – when he heard the sound of muffled voices in the hall. He headed for the armoire. He reached it as a key was heard in the lock, and was safely behind it when the door opened, admitting the Doctor and Romana.

"…so when I finally got to the Head Surveyor… I found the location of your cavern. But you won't be able to get to it."

"Why is that?"

"The only entrance is a mine shaft… right in the middle of the Army Fort."

"Perhaps you could arrange for us to get in."

She stared at him. "What?"

"With permission to dig for the mine shaft."

"Doctor… so far I've been able to do everything you asked me to. But do you really expect me to get you into a high-security military installation?"

He moved toward the mechanism he had created. "I have full confidence in your persuasive abilities."

"Well… this is more interesting than giving tea dances."

The Doctor realized the mechanism wasn't working. "That's strange…"

"What?"

"I left this device activated… but the transceiver assembly has been removed… without it I will be unable to track the time shifts."

"Shakespeare!" said Romana immediately.

"William Shakespeare?"

"He's been driving me crazy. He watches the house, follows me down the street asking questions – I'd bet you anything he got in here and took your – whatever you said."

"If you're correct, he must be told that the device has been modified in such a way that prolonged contact with human tissue would be highly toxic."

There was a muffled thump from the closet. The Doctor and Romana exchanged glances. The Doctor moved swiftly to the closet door and flung it open. Shakespeare stood there, at once sheepish and defiant, as the the Doctor and Romana stared at him.